Torn
by Twisted Midnight Dreams
Summary: Shards and scraps and splinters; put them together, make something new.


(As of this writing, I'm sixteen, and I realize 90 percent of authors my age are really, really bad. I'm trying to avoid that, so constructive criticism will help. And I won't freak out and call it a flame and block you and rant about you in my A/N's, as some are prone to do. In fact, flames are welcome too, as long as you tell me why I suck. And spell your flames correctly.

This fic isn't entirely planned out, so I can't say what you should look out for. I won't try to make this into a romance, although it is possible that there will be het and slash pairings eventually. And OCs are possible, too. For me, this is fifty percent practice, fifty percent fun.)

**Begin**_ /__**Torn/**_

_The voice. Ancient and almost painful to hear. But this wasn't hearing, no; it was…something else…_

_But it tells them:_

"**Listen."**

_So they—not knowing exactly who they are, just that they are many—sit on floors that aren't floors and listen with ears made of stardust._

"**There is a place **

**that is**

**nowhere.**

**It is not Wonderland, or Neverland. You don't have to believe in it. It will still be there, even when no-one remembers.**

**It was there, when no-one remembered. Just as always.**

**But it was empty, as Nowheres that are not remembered tend to be.**

**But no place is supposed to be empty."**

_A ringing silence descends. They somehow know that there is more to this tale. But the voice remains silent for many minutes._

_Then, it__** laughs. **__A joyful but horrifying sound, it tore at them, shredded them, broke them._

_Grey to white to red to black,_

_All of them, howling screaming _

_(Burning, like being shot through the skull)_

HELP ME

**begin chapter one: /new form/**

Whispers buzzed madly around his head like mosquitoes, laughing, mocking, taunting, crying. Slowly, they lowered, and finally faded into a single, and decidedly friendlier, voice.

"Excuse me? Are you awake?"

Head spinning, engineer and expert hacker Hal Emmerich—codename Otacon—awoke lying flat on his back. _That is definitely not my bed_. Cold seeped through his thin t-shirt and jeans. It was dark, the suffocating kind.

To his left, something rustled. "Hello? Mister?" a child's voice asked quietly.

Painfully, Hal sat up. "Yes? Who are you?" _Ugh. _He sounded as if he had swallowed sandpaper. After clearing his throat a few times, he asked, "Where am I?"

"My name's Mokuba," the voice said, slightly louder. "We're trapped in cages. There's a lot of them… most of them are empty, though." There was a small scraping sound. "I think it's just you and me."

His eyes were adjusting to the darkness. The cage was small. It was empty of everything; no cot, or even a toilet. There were bars to the front. The walls to his left and right were cold metal, but when he brushed his hands to the wall behind him, he realized the back was rock.

Standing up all the way, he knocked his head against the (also rock) ceiling. Wincing, he lowered into a crouch. A tiny breeze rushed along the floor, and Hal noticed that, strangely, he wasn't wearing any shoes.

Scraping again.

The boy called Mokuba said, "I think I can get out of here. I'm picking the lock. Who are you?"

Hal felt a prickle of suspicion slink up his neck. He had no idea how he got into this place, and though Snake was quick to call him naïve, he wasn't foolish.

However, this kid seemed just as much a prisoner as he was. Also, no-one was watching, it seemed. No guards were alerted. Not to mention that whoever kidnapped him probably knew who he was… but if they didn't?

What did it matter?

"Call me…Otacon."

_Click._

"Yeah! Okay, Otacon, I got it." He rushed over to Hal's cage. A wide grey eye peered between the narrow bars. "Here… Do you know how to use this?"

Mokuba—_Japanese name_, he realized—slid a lock pick through.

Hal examined the lock. It was simple, no electronics at all. "Yep. I'll be fast," he added.

While working on it, he allowed his thoughts to wander. He was skilled enough at lock-picking, thanks to Snake.

_Snake…_

He brushed his fingers to his temple, checking to see if the CODEC was working. The green window popped up over his right eye.

**NO RESPONSE.**

The soldier could take care of himself, Hal knew, but the fear he felt since the ageing was creeping up again.

"How'd you get here?" he asked, trying to get his mind off it.

"Uh, I don't... actually know…" Mokuba replied unsteadily. "I was sitting at the table, eating breakfast, but then there was this grey stuff," he paused and made gestures with his hands, like he was pulling down a curtain, "and then there were colors and someone was yelling, I don't know who it was, my big brother was at work but it kind of sounded like him only he'd never sound that scared-!"

"Whoa, calm down," Otacon interrupted. Mokuba's voice had risen to a high-pitched screech. "I'm sure he's okay," Hal added, "but we need to get out of here first, okay? Breathe."

Pause. Long, deep breath. "Yeah."

_Click._

The door swung open quietly. Otacon stepped out into the relative light of the tunnel. Actually, turning his head to the left, there really _was _a light at the end of the tunnel.

"Let's go that way, then," he said, glancing at his…charge. If that was the right word.

"Sure," he replied, nodding seriously.

They struck off quietly. Or tried to. The tunnel was filled with rocks, large and small, and they more than once stubbed a toe.

After a few minutes, he heard a sharp yelp behind him. Turning, he saw the kid leaning against a massive stalagmite.

"Step on a rock?"

"No," Mokuba forced out through gritted teeth. He removed his hand from his shoulder.

They were close enough to the light that Hal could clearly see the blood spattered down the white-and-blue jacket.

Otacon tensed and leaned in. It was something he'd seen more than once before—images, the aftermath of missions gone awry flashed though his head—a bullet had nicked his shoulder.

Otacon grabbed him and pulled him behind the stalagmite. "Where did the shot come from?" _Why didn't I hear it?_

"Dunno," he whimpered. "…Wait, shot?"

"Yes, I think so," Otacon replied absently, searching for a guard, camera, Cipher, anything.

There was nothing behind them, no corridors to speak of. There could have been people hiding in the cells…

_Stealth camo,_ his mind supplied. But something told him there wasn't anyone there.

_If only we could hide, make sure there was nobody around…_

Someone—some_thing_- walked out of the door.

It was orange and fluffy, with pointed ears. There was a shiny collar around its neck. It had two fox-tails, and—

A gun.

"Run!" Otacon shouted, pushing Mokuba back.

There was a flash of blue light—and Otacon found himself falling into hazy grey once again.

**end chapter one: /new form/**


End file.
